


Patches

by Bayyvon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Allusions to Violence, F/M, Implied Smut, biker!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayyvon/pseuds/Bayyvon
Summary: Bucky ducks in the door at half past two.





	Patches

Bucky ducks in the door at half past two. His boots clunk heavily across the hardwood, and he silently curses himself, hoping he hasn’t woken her. He makes his way towards their bedroom and sees that a light is still on.

His heart pulls tight in his chest at the sight of his girl.

Y/N is cast in the artificial yellow glow of her bedside lamp, eyes shut and head lolled back, a dog eared book clutched between her hands. She’s in one of his Rogers-Barnes Mechanics tshirts, and frilly socks. She had tried to wait up for him. His heart releases from its vice only to swell with adoration.

Bucky gingerly pulls the book from her grasp, and sets it on the nightstand. He presses a soft kiss to her temple and perches at the foot of the bed, taking great care in unlacing his boots.

Y/N is pulled from the depths of dreams when she loses the weight of her book in her hands. She reaches out blearily, sure she had knocked it into the floor, eyes still heavy with sleep when she catches sight of a large dark form at the end of her bed. Some of the disorientation sheds as her pulse races in fear, only to accelerate when she realizes what —or rather who— that looming form belongs to.

“James?”

“Hey, baby.”

Though he speaks softly, his tone is laced with gruff notes that make Y/N’s stomach do flips. The brunet reaches out to cup her face and she relishes the feeling of his hard earned callouses against her skin. She watches as he stands and begins what she’d dubbed as his “ritual.”

Unlace his boots, and set them near the dresser, where he rucks up his kut and removes his handgun from the waist of his Levi’s. Fishes the burner phone from his pocket and put both objects into the top drawer. Just when he’s unbuckling his belt, she interrupts and urgently waves him over.

“Missed me, hm?” James teases as she tangles her fingers into his vest and tugs him towards her. He presses a full kiss to her lips and Y/N hums as her fingers scratch through his facial hair.

He smells clean. Like gun oil and spiced shampoo. He had showered at the clubhouse, then. Her fingers trace over the fabric embroidered into the leather like it’s just another part of her Buck that deserved her gentle worship. Could tell you every detail from memory.

 _ **Vice President**_ in black and white above his heart. Y/N can feel it beating wildly in his chest and smiles into his kisses.

A tattooed hand skims her hip, snapping the band of her panties with his thumb. She’s busied herself with pushing her fingers across his patches. He wonders if she can smell the blood.

 ** _Brooklyn Original_** just below. Some the thread had started to wear thin. She pushes out the thought of why that is and sets herself on a personal mission to make Bucky Barnes _hers_. (She knows he’d tell her he was anyway, but. Sometimes she likes to remind him.)

“Missed you so much, Buck.”

James melts into her. Wonders how she can turn such a world hardened man into the definition of gentle. Tries not to think about the last few days.

A breast pocket, armed with cigarettes and a lighter. She feels his hands trail her with featherlike touch. Runs her nails across his neck to feel him shiver.

Y/N sighs into his mouth, and looks up at him through hooded eyes and he knows. Thanks god for it. She makes him soft. Better. Good.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ boutcha, sweetheart. My girl. My angel.”

A gash from a knife fight from long before they’d met that he wouldn’t let her fix. _‘Loses character’ he says with a grin hidden behind a smoke._

She curls her fingers into the hole and massages at the weakspot on his side. The one that makes him whine a little and drop into her. He looks at her like she’s otherworldly and it makes her head spin.

Bucky spreads kisses across her jaw. Down her neck. He’s too damn lucky. He must have won the karmatic lottery to get this girl.

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

A worn banner that says “Howlie” trailing across the juncture of his hip. Y/N slips her hands into the gap where Bucky’s flannel hangs above his waist band. Grabs at the valleys of his hips just to make him groan her name.

“Y’r stuck w’ me.”

His teeth connect with her shoulder and she makes a sound so heartbreakingly needy he nearly rips the fabric he’s got balled in his fist.

His right side bears only the club name, parallel to his left side rank. Slips one arm around his neck and the other into his jeans to grab his ass.

The top rocker she digs her nails into when he slides a denim clad thigh between her own proclaims SLEEPLESS SOLDIERS.

Their symbol lays heavy between Bucky’s shoulders.

His kut lands heavy on the floor as he discards it and she’s left with the task of unbuttoning the blue and green flannel and he sits back on his heels. Admires his baby. Lets the love seep into the cracks of his armor and consume him. Lets it wash away the things he’d done.

He lets his girl his baby his angel run her hands over his bruises. She kisses his cuts. She worships him from head to toe. Rides him until he breaks and breaks again and then she glues him back together with patterns on his back and giggles about his freckles and a whine about _staying safe for the love of god jesus almighty James Buchanan Barnes we are running out of bandaids!_

He lets her patch him up in ways he didn’t think he deserved.


End file.
